Monday, June 06, 2011

My friend from my old job and the bride who I will be bridesmaiding for this summer, Maria, had her wedding shower yesterday.

The day before, while I was at work, Maria called me and left me a voicemail while crying hysterically. Her mom had fallen late the night before and broke her wrist. She was in the hospital, waiting to have rather extensive surgery (plates and rods and all of that ugly stuff) to repair her wrist and they didn’t even know if she would be out of the hospital in time to go to the shower.

I called Maria back and put on my Polly Positive voice, insisting that everything would be okay. We could get it all done. Even if it takes all night and the morning leading up to the shower. It would get done. Her shower would be beautiful. Her mom would be there. And, one day, the events of the weekend would be nothing but a funny story.

And I felt like I could tell her all of that with relative certainty because what happened to her mom? Tell me, longtime readers, that it doesn’t sound exactly like something that would happen to my family. (Probably because it has. See: Aunt Maria breaking her ankle just before Emma’s birthday. See: Grandma getting bit by a cat and having a massive infection that blew apart a few tendons in her hand on the eve of Anna’s high school graduation party. I can come up with more examples.)

Not that I wouldn’t have been under the best of circumstances, but knowing that Maria was having such a rough time of it really put me on the top of my game.

I was in my bridesmaid prime, you guys. Early to help. Late to leave. Cute dress. Official prize giver-outer. Creator of the most divine ribbon bouquet in the history of mankind.

It’s really easy to do the right thing (while wearing a fierce pair of heels. Even though I had a soccer game later that night.) when you know how it feels to be in almost exactly the same situation.

It’s also really easy to be a good bridesmaid when you’ve been one 97 times before.

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comments:

You are a wonderful friend who knows how to handle any situation with class and ease. You are a much better person than I -- I absolutely refuse to be a bridesmaid anymore (including for my best friend, she was fine with it)...my cousin was the bridezilla from hell (we had to wear matching underwear and yes she checked!)..after that I was done!!

Hi. I'm A.

Born, raised, educated in the Midwest, I am such a Midwesterner. So Midwestern, if you will.

I am: a blogger of 8+ years, forever searching for my next athletic challenge, hopelessly overscheduled and always, always eating.

I started So Midwestern right after I graduated from college, hoping to chronicle my transition to adulthood. Graduate school, four half marathons, two new nephews, three apartments, a trip to Africa, a sprinkle of heartbreak, dozens of unfinished knitting projects, four turns as a bridesmaid, 8,913 job applications and two full-time positions later: I’m fairly convinced that the day when I feel like a legitimate, full-fledged grownup will never come. So I’ll just keep on blogging.

I write about a little bit of everything and a lot of nothing. Toss my ramblings with a few pictures, a touch of swearing and an endless appreciation for the beauty that is David Beckham and you have So Midwestern. Welcome.